What If
by Ethan-Silas
Summary: If AmazingPhil had never gone on YouTube, he'd simply be Philip Lester, weatherman... And if danisnotonfire had never been inspired by him, he'd simply be Daniel Howell, lawyer.


I drudged on through the cold, my black shoes contrasting the hard, packed snow and the dull grey slush beneath. I shrugged my shoulders up as a freezing breeze tickled my neck… I hated when things touched my neck. I closed my eyes to the blinding light the lackluster clouds shot down. The entirety of England was pale and lifeless this afternoon, and not even its prettiest sites held any form of interest. We hadn't gotten much snow, but what we did had stuck and clung to the ground beneath our feet. I breathed out a hot breath that rebounded off the collar I'd pulled up to my nose and my lower face was gratefully enveloped by a lovely, warm, albeit short-lived gust of air.

Not much longer now, I knew, as I saw familiar buildings that led up to the law office I worked at. Not much longer now.

The weather man spoke happily into my earbuds as I walked along, his northern accent much too chipper for the dull world I walked through. Well, I thought bitterly. If this Philip Lester wanted snow, he should be the one to shovel up everyone's drives. I briefly wondered what the man was like; he sounded like such a lovely person, friendly and kind. However, such a person was far too… Happy, for a man like I'd become. I shrugged the thought of and pushed open the door to my work, for another dull day of work.

When I was done in the midnight, the air was so cold that my coat did naught to keep me warm. I didn't call a taxi, however; instead I walked on, knowing Linda would be waiting for me at home. It was a bittersweet thought to think of her; I loved her, dearly, of course; I was her husband. I wouldn't have married her otherwise. But the love was dwindling, running thin, and I knew why. Geoff was more than just a childhood friend now, and I knew it, and I knew that I shouldn't allow it to continue… But at the same time, I didn't care enough to leave. And, besides, what with working from four to midnight six days of the week, I hardly got to see the children living with them… A familiar pang of sadness, followed by anger, followed by guilt and finally, a wash of numb acceptance consumed me. But I knew all this. I thought it everyday, coming home to my wife, my two lovely children already in bed.

* * *

I sat down on the bed to hear Ben snoring softly behind me, and relief washed over me. He was already asleep. I took off my shirt and my trousers, laying back in just my shorts and socks.

I looked over at my boyfriend, sleeping on his belly. He looked so calm and peaceful beside me, so unlike how he'd become in the past weeks. I closed my eyes and touched the left one, and was immediately thankful that makeup existed. He'd hit me… Ben had actually hit me. Sorrow and indignation and bitterness danced around in my mind before fading into that painful sadness that slept in my chest and kept me rueful company. Ben had once been so happy and full of life, and now he was just tired and angry and cruel.

I had to leave him, I'd had enough. I'd packed my things yesterday and tried to leave… And Ben had hit me, right in the eye. It was swollen and sore, but nothing bad enough that it couldn't be hidden and excused. Of course, I wouldn't stay with him, not after that. But I couldn't just walk out, apparently, and I couldn't sneak out and leave our dog. Rufus wouldn't leave quietly, not without Ben, so I had to wait until tomorrow, when it was take your dog to work day at the news station. I wouldn't bother bringing clothes, and I'd have to leave work without notice. I'd already talked to Martyn about staying with him down south for a while… I'd try to find another job. I didn't want Ben finding me.

For a moment, realizing how close I was to leaving my life behind, from leaving all my friends. They were lovely people, of course, and I cared so much about them, but… I couldn't risk Ben finding me again. He'd only hit me once, but I knew what could come out of something that was supposedly 'just once'. I squeezed my eyes and pulled the blanket around me, though the heat that filled my room was enough to keep away the chilly winter that danced around our small cottage. I loved this house… I loved Ben. My injured eye stung as a single tear rolled from it.

"Phil?" Ben whispered in a deep, sleepy tone under his breath. Love and hatred danced together in my heart and in my soul.

"Yeah?" I forced out, as neutral as possible.

"I love you," he said in a sweet voice. More tears warmed my cheeks.

"I love you, too, Ben," I whispered quietly. He rolled over and fell asleep, and I turned away, covering myself and crying. Thankfully, I went unnoticed.


End file.
